


Cold Turkey

by molo (esteefee)



Series: Venice Place [3]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: April Showers Challenge, Crack, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-11
Updated: 2006-03-11
Packaged: 2017-10-17 11:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/176253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/molo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch goes cold turkey.  This is bad.  Real bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Turkey

Hutch made a 'hmmph' noise and put down his paper. 

"You're not gonna believe this, Starsk. There are coffee bean pickers in Ecuador who receive the equivalent of three cents an hour for hard labor.  _Three cents_!" 

 _Oh oh spaghettio. Here we go again_ , thought Starsky. He started to push his chair back in preparation for a fast getaway. 

Hutch picked up the paper again and made a disgusted sound. "That's it. I'm giving it up."

Starsky dropped back down with a thud. "You're  _what_?" 

"I'm giving it up. I'm not going to drink coffee anymore," Hutch said decisively, the deep crease between his eyebrows telegraphing the seriousness of his intent. 

Starsky swallowed in alarm. "Babe...." 

"I mean it! I can't support an industry that abuses its workers like that! It's inhumane!" Hutch leaned forward. "You gotta help me kick it, Starsk. I'm gonna go cold turkey." 

Starsky groaned his despair. 

 _Just what I need, Mr. Irritable, Depressive and Prone-to-Headaches having symptoms of irritability, depression and headaches._

 _It's gonna be a long damned day._  

=== 

MINUTE ONE 

"Will you STOP it?" Hutch grumped at his partner. 

"Stop what?" Starsky said absently. He tucked his tongue between his teeth and continued the delicate repairs on his Battlestar Galactica model. 

"That annoying, incessant, never-ending...BREATHING all the time." Hutch resumed his pacing. 

"Uh, yeah. Sure, babe." Starsky said. He shook the ache out of his fingers and leaned over to blow on the join. 

"And what the hell is this?" Hutch said angrily. "Why is there...gunk all over my paperwork?" Hutch held up his tax form and then growled when it stuck to his palm. 

"Oops, sorry about that," Starsky said sheepishly. "I guess I went a little crazy with the epoxy." 

Hutch's brows drew together thunderously. 

"I'll just get you some nail polish remover," Starsky said, hastily turning tail and heading toward the bathroom. The closed door just barely muffled the sound of plastic smashing against a hard surface. 

 _Great. There goes my gold Centurion._  Starsky thought with remorse. 

=== 

HOUR TWO 

"Medicine...I need some help!" Hutch muttered, shivering beneath the bedspread. Starsky sat down beside him and hauled his partner into his arms. 

"I got ya, babe. It's gonna be okay," he chanted, holding tight to the shuddering form. He raised his eyes toward the ceiling, trying to rein back his tears.  _I can't stand to see him hurting like this._  

"Help me, Starsk. You know where to get the stuff, I know you do!" Hutch clutched at his arm, his fingers digging deep. "Just a couple of beans...please...If you were my friend, you'd--" 

"Just hold on, sweetheart, we're gonna make it," Starsky reassured him, almost blinded by the moisture pooling in his eyes. 

"I'll do anything you ask, give you anything you want... _Anything_ ," Hutch said, lowering his voice suggestively. 

"But you give me that anyway," Starsky pointed out. 

"Oh, yeah. Right," Hutch muttered, defeated. 

=== 

HOUR THREE 

Starsky jolted awake at the knock. He gently shifted his delirious companion off his lap and stumbled to the door. 

"Huggy! I was just gonna call you." 

"No need, m'man. The Bear always knows when he's needed." Huggy sauntered by him, a tray carefully balanced on one hand. On it was a cup, some candy bars and...a pot of steaming hot coffee. 

"What the hell!" Starsky said, frozen in shock. 

"Medicine!" Hutch cried from the bed, lunging off to land on the floor, the blanket tangling around his legs. 

The next moments were pure pandemonium. As Hutch wormed his way across the floor, Starsky tried to grab Huggy from behind, but the man danced away, the tails of his chartreuse jacket just beyond the reach of Starsky's fingers, tray swinging precariously. 

Then Hutch's hand grabbed Huggy's ankle and the three of them went down in an inelegant sprawl, the coffeepot flying across the room to shatter against the bureau. 

Hutch moaned in utter despondency. 

Starsky untangled himself from Huggy's long limbs and rose to his feet, anger choking his voice. 

"Just what in the HELL do you think you're doing, bringing that stuff in here?" Starsky began ominously. 

Huggy raised his palms defensively. "I heard the bro was going cold turkey again. Just wanted to bring him some aid. What the heck's gotten into you, amigo?" 

"He's kicking COFFEE, not H, Huggy! And you come in here with chocolate and a steaming pot of the stuff. Jesus, you could've set us back three hours!" 

"Sorry, man. I guess my snitch gave me some bad info," Huggy said, rising and dusting himself off. 

Hutch whimpered. 

=== 

HOUR TWELVE 

Starsky exited the bathroom with a sigh, drying his hands. He blanched at the sight that greeted him. 

Hutch was on his hands and knees by the bureau, laboriously lapping at the carpeting there. 

"Oh, babe," Starsky said sadly. 

=== 

HOUR SIXTEEN 

"How're you feeling?" Starsky asked. His partner was curled up in a dismal ball on the bed, both hands pressed hard to the sides of his head. 

"It's gonna explode," Hutch moaned. "My head's gonna blow wide open and spill my brains all over the place." 

 _What there is of 'em,_  Starsky thought uncharitably. 

"I heard that!" Hutch snapped. 

=== 

A NEW DAY 

Hutch came out of the bathroom, a towel slung low on his still-damp hips, a sheepish expression on his face. 

"Such a thing as a mercy killing?" he said. The water ran lazily down his pale chest to pool in his belly-button. 

Starsky licked his lips. "What's that?" he responded vaguely. 

Hutch smiled. "You look tired, babe. I think you need to lie down." 

"Lie down, yeah," Starsky said as Hutch tugged gently at his hand, pulling him toward the bed. 

"Maybe after a nice nap we can go out for some hamburgers." 

"Hamburgers, yeah." Starsky's eyes were riveted on Hutch's erect nipples. "Oh, wait." 

"Wait?" Hutch lay down beside him, the towel conveniently falling from his waist. 

"I forgot to tell you. While you were laid up, I was reading this book Babcock gave me. It's called  _Fast Food Nation_...." 

"What's it about?" Hutch put his hand on Starsky's chest and slipped his fingers into the gap in his shirt. 

"Well, it's about the fast food industry and the disgusting stuff that goes into those burgers--what're you doing?" he asked as Hutch's fingers got busy on his belt buckle. 

"Seeing what disgusting things I can get into with  _you_." 

"You're on, Blondie." 

 _End._


End file.
